Limbo Burning
by twowritehands
Summary: When friendship isn't enough, but more might be too much for just one man to handle, what can anyone do but take a leap of faith? ...a series of one shots...T plus? CHAPTER TWO UP!
1. Chapter 1

Two friends laughed together in a brightly lit kitchen in Japan, trading looks and snickering behind closed lips, because the unintended innuendo in a five-year-old boy's speech was bringing out the school boys in them both, but it was inappropriate to laugh; full out laughter would prompt questions from seven-year-old Philippa - who was beautiful but insistent to a truly annoying level on being let in on all the grown up things; neither Cobb nor Saito had the energy for that endless back and forth of, _tell me_ and _not till you're older_.

She and her brother sat on high stools at a long, polished counter that separated the expensive kitchen from the expensive everything else. (This was Saito's city apartment and it was bigger and better furnished than the house Cobb and the children would return to in California when this visit was over.)

James focused on his next move in the pegs game he was playing with Saito and Philippa was coloring in a princess book, so neither noticed the smothered grins of Daddy and Uncle Saito when James misspoke. Cobb ruffled James' hair and Saito corrected his youngest visitor kindly and with a wink at Cobb, which he did without even thinking about.

Cobb turned his back on the others and headed for the sink, wishing the wink hadn't come with him. He was still wearing a smile that hadn't really gone away since he made it back to his family nearly two years earlier, but now also a light coloring in his cheeks which he found troubling. He washed some plump tomatoes in a giant sink that had a faucet that only needed to be touched on the side to turn on and off. On the stove beside him, salt and saffron water had already come to a boil and now sat simmering with rice stirred in.

Cobb laid his clean tomatoes out on the cutting board and chanced a glance in the general direction of his friend and host. Saito was not seated, standing on the kitchen side of the counter and leaning forward on it to reach across the monolithic counter space to the game the little boy was playing with on the other side. He was in his usual suit, black and custom made, and Cobb's eyes naturally followed the lines across his friend's broad back and down over his bottom before he blushed and turned away.

He hadn't felt like this since he was in school. (Meeting Mal in that study hall had been like flipping a switch on his libido from Bi-Sexual to Mal-Only. Losing her had been like breaking the switch off completely. And now it seemed to have grown back into its original position.) These feelings for his former employer had just sort of trickled in as they'd continued a friendship made in limbo. Cobb knew he trusted Saito, thought about him a lot, and liked to see him as much as possible; he had absolutely no idea how to go from there.

How did a single father date _at all_? Never mind date a busy (and okay dangerous) Japanese businessman? Cobb was in LA, Saito was here; how would that work? No one said anything about "serious", but Cobb never was a _casual_ guy. (He had meant to have a casual thing with Mal and look how that ended.)

How did a man ask out a long-time friend? He certainly didn't want to jeopardize the only real friendship he had these days. (Arthur and the others called occasionally, but there was little to talk about since they were not at liberty to discuss the details of their illegal affairs to an _outsider_.) It wasn't every day that Cobb and Saito got to really visit, but they spoke all the time on the phone. In fact, the call that had led to an invitation for the Cobb family to come see Tokyo had started as Saito simply calling to check up on how James was doing after a stomach bug.

The knife Cobb had pulled from Saito's drawer to dice the tomatoes with was so sharp that he was fairly certain it'd never been used before. Saito had admitted that he rarely stayed in this apartment; it existed for convenience in case something came up while he was in the city. Meaning this was where he took dates. Cobb supposed there were other reasons it could be used, but couldn't think of any.

Philippa sighed, dramatically lolling to the side with her blonde hair splaying out across the countertop, "How much longer until it's done, Daddy?" she asked. She'd been complaining of starving to death since right after finishing her lunch. Saito chuckled, "Not long, now, Little Hungry One."

She narrowed her eyes playfully at the nickname, stuck her tongue out. Saito stuck his tongue out back and James joined in, hooking his thumbs in his cheeks and making his Psycho Pig James Face. Philippa, who was really getting the hang of being dramatic, wouldn't even feign to smile at her little brother's silly antics, which usually had her in stitches. She sighed again and put on a groan, blue eyes (distinctly those of a begging-puppy) rolling up to meet her father's.

Cobb, dicing away at the red fruit, jutted a chin upstairs, "If you go and help James get cleaned up for dinner it'll be done by the time you get back." Cobb knew foam soap was in the bathrooms and that his children always spent at least ten minutes playing whenever they encountered the stuff. That'd give him plenty of time to finish up his quick little meal of saffron rice with tomato and fresh oregano.

James and Philippa knew foam soap was in the bathrooms, too, and happily slid from their stools with excited squeals and raced up the floating stairs to the second level. James called down that when he got back he was going to beat Saito at the game, and Cobb looked up in time to watch as Saito-even as he called after James that no, he would not win-_cheated_.

He moved some pieces around so that James would, in fact, win.

The bubble of a laugh that jumped out of Cobb pulled Saito's burnt brown eyes up to meet Cobb's aquarium blue, and he winked again now with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. The blond man hadn't paused in his slicing, and his movements faltered. The knife slipped from his hand, nearly cutting off a pinky.

"I'm fine!" he assured his friend, who flinched forward in worry at the clang of the knife. Cobb presented a still-attached pinky, smiling broadly through his embarrassment, "See? Not even bleeding."

Saito chuckled, straightening his suit jacket and going to the stove to turn off the heat and strain the rice. "If you had just let me take you all to a restaurant, we would not fear for pinky tips in our dinner."

"James and Philippa are exhausted," Cobb waved a hand to indicate the day they'd spent at Saito's amusement park. (A little place called Tokyo Disney Land). "They would've fallen asleep waiting for their food." On perfect cue to undermine his statement, shrieks of laughter drifted down the floating stairs.

Saito grinned up the stairs and handed Cobb a bowl for him to sweep the tomato cubes into. "Thanks," the resident chef said softly as he took the bowl. Saito's dark fingers nimbly plucked one of the dripping red cubes from the pile and popped it in his mouth.

Cobb smiled and moved toward the stove to add the ingredient, but Saito stopped him. A sudden but gentle hold on Cobb's wrist beneath the bowl captured all of his attention. For some reason such a simple concept wouldn't compute. The error was in the gentleness; Cobb hadn't imagined (and oh how he'd began to imagine) that Saito's hand would be that light, but this powerful at the same time.

He swallowed to keep his throat from closing, lost his breath promptly when Saito's other hand settled on his waist and he stepped closer, body pressing a long line of heat against Cobb's right side. His words were as warm and soft as he was, "Dom. I would like you to stay here tonight. Not at a hotel." _With me_.

The half whispered words were pregnant with certainty; made it difficult for Cobb to remember what was supposed to be complicated about any of this, why he should say no. The kids were still shrieking with laughter upstairs, getting foam everywhere no doubt, but not coming down any time soon. Saito was waiting patiently for an answer, eyes full of the night's itinerary, sure to give the adults a taste of some grown-up magic.

Cobb's heart pounded excitedly; and of its own accord his free wrist went up to rest across the back of Saito's neck, his fingers discovering a fine tickle at the neat hairline.

"Kaemon," he breathed Saito's given name like it was hot steam off a drink of fresh coffee; something like pure caffeine was shooting into his blood like a fix he'd denied himself for years—decades counting limbo. He _wanted_ to say yes, he wanted to skip dinner (just thinking about accepting the offer sent a shiver up him that trembled in his lips) but he didn't know if it was right. "I don't know; how is this going to work?"

"Does it have to _work_?" Saito asked stubbornly. When Cobb's heavy eyes bore reproachfully into Saito's, the man surrendered the brave naivety and more crinkles nearly closed his eyes, showed just light and teeth as a warm chuckle filled the kitchen.

"I know you..." he said, and that was the end of the sentence. Saito _knew_ him. Knew his history, his situation, that casual-anything was out of the question. They hadn't even managed to be casual friends; skipping from employer/employee to Best Friends For Life in the space of—I kid you not—three seconds. Cobb had done the math. All of those dreaming compounds speeding up time inside a dream made Limbo come out to three heartbeats, one breath, a thousand miles above the Pacific.

One steady breath over three rapid heartbeats now, Cobb whispered, "So?"

So where did they go from here? If Cobb stayed, if the night unfolded on schedule, where did that put them when the sun rose? When the week was over and the Cobb family returned to LA?

"So...how often are we going to have to convince one another to take a leap of faith?"

Cobb closed his eyes. Saito released his wrist and touched his face, vast warm palm cupping Cobb's cheek comfortably. He leaned into it instinctually. Touch, another thing he'd lost that night at the hotel suite, back now after he'd relearned life without it. It felt unfair and too generous at the same time.

"It'll be such a big change for them," he feared aloud.

"It'll be good for all of you." Saito said. "For us. If I let you three get on that plane back to America without knowing..." he stopped, shook his head. When he spoke next, his voice was back under control. "I've vowed to never be filled with that kind of regret again."

Cobb's stomach was somewhere in limbo, where paper lanterns fluttered in a cloud of butterflies away from a castle balcony. He shook the fuzzy picture away; renewed inspiration, (once gone with the life of touch but back now like a funnel had been opened) got swept to the side momentarily to look at the real world again. Now was the time to be logical, for the children's sake, not get swept up in discovery (however deeply he ached for it on every level, artistic, spiritual, physical.) He would do better this time, keep an eye on the world, make sure he didn't steer into another storm.

"God, Kaemon..." Cobb dropped his eyes away to look at the stove, shaking his head. The movement pushed his cheek further into Saito's hand and pulled it away from the touch in quick intervals.

"Do you not trust me?" Saito asked, thumb brushing over Cobb's skin, eyes dropping down to look at Cobb's lips for a moment before lifting to meet his gaze again.

"I don't trust _myself_," Cobb corrected truthfully, a self-depreciating hook in the corner of his mouth. Saito moved in just then, on an outtake of breath, eyes back on Cobb's mouth, but right as Cobb could feel Saito's hot breath on the tender skin of his lips, the laughter from upstairs suddenly magnified and grew closer because the children were racing back down the stairs.

Saito released Cobb, turned away quickly toward the stove, head down. Cobb was left alone in the middle of the kitchen as if dazzled by a sudden spotlight. Next second, Saito had regrouped himself and turned all the way around to face the squeaky clean American children, "Ah, my friends have returned to me! Are we foam free?" he asked of them.

"FOAM IS FUN!" James cried, then to Cobb, "I HAD A BEARD, DADDY!"

Cobb raised his eyebrows, trying his best to seem interested but failing. Philippa snickered behind her hand, "and big fluffy eyebrows, too."

"It got in my eyes and I didn't even cry!" James' chest swelled with pride. Saito chuckled and scooped him up by the armpits. He made a show of sniffing the child and then said to Philippa, "Ah, completely clean. You have performed your duty honorably, Little Princess."

She put her palms together and bowed in the way he'd shown her to do, giggling with pride. Saito then deposited the squirming James on his stool.

"Now we must finish our game, Jamie-kan! I have been studying my pegs closely and I believe there is no way you will win!"

"I'M GONNA WIN!" James declared promptly, slamming his little palms into the countertop on either side of the game. Philippa pushed her stool over next to his and climbed up to help him win the game as the helpful big sister that she loved to be.

Cobb focused on tossing the tomatoes in with the rice and seasoning the dish with pepper and salt rather than watch his children laugh and team up against an acting serious-and-self-assured Saito in the peg game that he'd already rigged in their favor. He was _so_ good with them. God, Cobb didn't know if that made it better or worse.

...

After such a big day and a warm meal, James and Philippa settled down on the massive living room couch in front of the flat screen to watch a movie and fell asleep before it ended, but Cobb sat quietly between them through the rest of it. He honestly didn't know what he was waiting for. He wasn't at all interested in the movie, but didn't have the nerve to just turn it off in the middle. Maybe if it was his house, his TV, but it wasn't. Saito remained in his chair, looking at the tv but also not watching it. Cobb didn't know what Saito was waiting for either; perhaps just making sure the kids were properly asleep.

When the credits began rolling, Cobb straightened them out at each end of the couch and tucked them in with pillows and blankets Saito manifested from a hall closet. The room fell dark when the television flashed off, and for a moment, Cobb was blind. He straightened from caressing Philippa's hair out of her eyes, and searched the room for a point of light.

A red dot from the expensive entertainment center gave him orientation, but before he could move, Saito was next to him, hands catching his elbow and ribs, mouth catching his lips, parted in surprise. Hands, light but sure, encircled Cobb, cozy and right; such an insane reminder of clothes fresh out of a dryer. Some kind of noise sounded inside of Cobb, could have been a feeling, a thought, a word. It wasn't a heartbeat; that was happening in his ears, where the sound should have been.

Saito broke the kiss and put fingers to Cobb's lips, face so close that he could feel Saito look down at the kids. The noise hadn't disturbed them, if it had even been loud enough to fall down there. Heart pounding, Cobb tried to think reasonably. The miles between them, the bigger responsibilities on their shoulders, rushing into anything would only increase stress, wound a barely mended heart, and wreck a most cherished friendship.

Friends. Could Cobb carry on as just his friend for much longer? It seemed impossible, when Saito understood him to easily, when Cobb trusted him so much, when it'd been _so long_ since he'd been held… Cobb felt himself teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice, deep dark unknowns in front of him.

When friendship isn't enough, but more might be too much for just one man to handle, what can anyone do but take a leap of faith?

Quietly, Saito led him through the dark at a sure speed, to the stairs, up them a little more slowly. At the top, they found that the bathroom light had been left on, foam indeed all over the counters, but more importantly, across from the bathroom, the master bedroom door stood open and inviting.

At the sight of it, Cobb effectively lost all inhibitions. He knew what he wanted, and he had a rare chance to take it. His fingers laced with Saito's, and he lifted their hands to kiss beautifully dark skin, hungry lips caressing each knuckle as their stride carried them into the room. Their bodies collided when Saito stopped to close the door, inadvertently pressing Cobb into the cool wood.

Hot breaths washed over shaved chin and black goatee, and Cobb shook Saito's fingers loose to hold the face mashed against his, to feel the kisses coming with every flex of that strong jaw under his palms. Behind him, fumbling fingers popped the lock into place, just in case, and with the little click of safety, Cobb pushed Saito toward the bed.

Even as they both stepped out of their shoes on the way, their momentum across the room did not break their kiss, but their smiles did. Saito's eyes were glittering as he pushed Cobb's shirt from his shoulders, "You're shaking, my friend."

"It's been awhile," Cobb admitted with a grin, blue eyes on Saito's lips. He pulled his shirt all the way off and Saito's was next. Cobb stepped out of his trousers as Saito's shirt rustled to the floor.

"How long?" The businessman's chest was firm, a light fuzz of dark hair and a smattering of freckles. His pants joined Cobb's.

"With a man?" Cobb asked. He shrugged and with a hand flat in the center of Saito's bare chest, he gave the man the last shove over onto the bed. Satio's knees bent, and he dropped down onto the mattress, beaming up at Cobb as the paler man moved on after him, knees on either side of Saito's hips, hands gripping shoulders, "Not since college."

Words stopped with the return of kisses. Saito's palms were warm on Cobb's bare thighs, massaging the tense muscles then over his hips, up his sides, around to his back and shoulders, which Cobb rolled forward under the touch, deepening the kiss. A tremor went through him and Saito broke away, nose bumping Cobb's, "How long since anyone?"

Cobb's lips pursed and he couldn't meet Saito's eye for a moment. When he did, blue was heavy with sadness and longing. He shook his head, _not since Mal_. Two years. He'd gone _two whole years_ without physical connection to anyone. How could he possibly explain that? How could he say that he never felt he _deserved_ it? That he still didn't.

Before Cobb had a chance to think too much, Saito's hands caught his neck and his fingers pushed into the thick hair at the base of his skull, and he was pulled in for a kiss so tender and reverent that Cobb very nearly sobbed into it. With this kiss came a sudden new atmosphere to the night; Saito was not in a hurry, he was here to reacquaint Cobb to the gentle touches that he'd so long denied.

Saito rolled them, pushing Cobb into the cool smooth fabric of the duvet, silvery material like liquid moonlight. Once the comforting weight of the other man was over him, moist lips broke from Cobb's to trail down his jaw to his neck. Cobb held onto him, slipping away into a place that frightened him with its burning depth. Did they leave limbo burning, as he and Mal had left it crumbling? So it seemed, for Saito's nearness stirred a fire in Cobb so deep that it was down there were the man had built his castle on the rocks.

"Kaemon," he gasped, pressing moist eyes into a naked shoulder. This was-this wasn't just _physical_ what was happening here. Saito hushed him softly, one hand smoothing back his blond hair so that their foreheads could touch, the other tracing the line of coarse hair beneath the hem of Cobb's shorts. A quake tightened Cobb's spine and he choked, sucked at Saito's mouth like that would give him air. A moan shivered out of him.

Lips smacked. "I feel it too," Saito rasped, stripping away the last of their clothes. Blue eyes looked into brown, surprised, mystified. Saito _did_ feel it. Cobb could see the fires burning in the man holding him. Water sprang there as if to douse it, but like Greek fire, the dampness only made it burn brighter. The tightness in Cobb's chest shuddered out of him in a strange dry sob, then the tears came. Saito's thumbs caught the drops and Japanese words flowed softly in something that was a reassurance, a promise, a prayer.

Cobb only nodded. Yes. Yes. _Yes_.

Saito kissed him, softly pressing as deep as he could go. Cobb lifted his knees to grant access; his mind racing, heart pounding. As his body was discovered by another, renewed with pangs of pleasure and desire, satisfaction and sensuality, Cobb did something he had not had the heart to do since losing half of himself to madness; he built.

Coming to him in the flash of a kiss, a stroke, or a moan, more fuzzy pictures invaded his mind like the butterfly lantern balcony. Rooms of magnificent size, ceilings of splendor, windows that captured wondrous views of the world not just here in Tokyo, but Venice, Paris, Budapest-and impossible places too; shapes that couldn't work, paradoxes that pulled the stairs into the stars (or the stars down to the stairs). Inspiration coursed through Cobb like new blood, making pin-and needles, tingles, like a flutter, in his belly that swept up into a tight ball and broke, spilling outside of him.

He shook, bones liquefying, and Saito finished a second behind him. Their mouths came together and they kissed their way out of their high. Then, cleaned up with their arms around each other, their breaths brushing one another, and their hearts falling into step, Cobb fell into his first moment of true repose in two years. The worries of lifetimes lived in limbo, single fatherhood, a criminal past, and an out-of-control crush had been stripped away, and he was just Dominic Cobb again, free like he'd been as a kid with no responsibilities and all the time in the world to enjoy himself.

He rolled his head up onto his chin on Saito's chest and smiled when he saw the man was lying with his eyes closed and a look of serenity smoothing his features. "I never thought I could feel like this again; feel so young."

Saito smiled, not opening his eyes, but his hand found Cobb's face, wept over it like a blind man would do to see, "I told you we would be young men together."

Cobb went to his elbow, sliding up so that they were at a level with each other, "Yeah, but you didn't mean _this_, did you?" he slid his hand down Saito's chest, ghosted it over his stomach and on down until Saito's eyebrows rose.

"I did," he teased with his eyes still closed.

"No, you didn't," Cobb breathed as the tip of his nose traced Saito's beard.

Saito nodded stubbornly, thrusting up into Cobb's palm just to feel him more and kissing him. They sank into the kiss and let it end naturally. Saito opened his eyes finally, let Cobb in. Hair was falling into Cobb's eyes and Saito pushed it back, "We will make this work."

Cobb released a hard breath and dropped back down to rest his head on Saito's chest, echoing, "We will make this work," but his sounded more like a desperate plea. For all that they'd stumbled into tonight, Cobb found doubts plaguing him. They were on opposite sides of the planet, he had to think about the kids, Saito had to think about his company, how could two worlds so apart be twisted together so tightly inside Cobb's ribcage?

Uprooting the children to a foreign country wasn't fair - not when they'd only just regained a sense of normalcy after losing their mother. Saito couldn't live in the States, his business operated in Japan and Africa. It was a tangled mess and now Cobb felt that hearts would be broken no matter which way they turned.

Saito's arms tightened around him, and he felt a kiss through the hair on the top of his head, and it was all surreally reassuring. "Dominic-san, I must remind you again to take a leap of faith with me."

Grinning, Cobb squeezed the so very real thing he had to rest his head on, "Hey, I'm right here, aren't I?" he asked, even as he asked it he thought that so long as Saito was there to remind him, he would _always _take the leap. Saito's answer was in Japanese, sounded like a tease. Cobb closed his heavy eyes and listened to the heart beating beneath his ear. Just as the dark tentacles of dreamless sleep wrapped around Cobb's mind, Saito murmured an echo, "I'm right here."

**F I N**

_a/n: author is aware that Proclus Global is an energy conglomerate and so Saito PROBABLY DOESN'T own Tokyo Disney Land. But, hell, maybe he bought it because it would be neater than standing in line?_

**if you want more, reviewing would be a way to make that happen :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I know the author profile says that we don't publish unfinished fics, but we're trying something new. This story wants to be an epic saga about long distance relationships and love conquering all. So we're going to let it be. Our compromise with ourselves? Each chapter will be more or less a Stand Alone one-shot, but we're posting them all here as one story since it's all the same thread...we'll see how that goes. lol**

_The air was glowing with the soft orange of firelight through walls of thin white paper. He could feel Cobb's heartbeat under the tender center of his palm, steady and comfortable. Saito was propped on one elbow, stretched out beside the fairer man lying flat on his back. He enjoyed the way Cobb languidly lifted his head, chasing Saito's lips if ever they got too far away, and the way he smiled whenever Saito felt like teasing him and pulling out of his lazy reach._

_ He slid his hand up the pale chest, up a closely shaved neck and then went to his fingertips to trace the jaw from ear to ear. Cobb's eyes dropped closed at this, like a cat getting his belly scratched; Cobb loved to be traced, this Saito had learned quickly. It could be anything: the ridges of his knuckles, the circumference of his areolas, or the arches of his feet, the young father's chest swelled with satisfied breath and the full grown man practically _purred_ whenever fingertips went dragging wherever they wanted to go. _

_Saito dropped down to breathe against Cobb's mouth, "Say it again," and he flattened his palm lightly over Cobb's throat, to feel the words coming out._

_ His lover's eyes fluttered open, soft blue devotion under a heavy brow that was currently smoothed of troubles, "I'll stay with you," he promised. Saito's eyes closed tightly against the wellspring inside of him and Cobb said again, more resolutely, voice cracking with its certainty on the emphasis, "I'll stay, _of course I'll stay_. I love you too much to go."_

The natural dream broke and Saito woke. He instantly understood what had awakened him before the sun was even up; Cobb had gotten out of bed, was dressing. They'd forgotten to turn off the lamps before falling into sex-comas. Saito watched Cobb dress in silence, pleading helplessly with whatever higher power was in command of these things, to please change Cobb's mind, to bring him back for every last moment they could have because this was their last night: Cobb would be going back to America in the morning, despite Saito's best efforts to convince him otherwise.

Dark jeans fitted enticingly around Cobb's ass and his perfectly sloping lower back disappeared behind the tails of a white button down. Saito could ask him not to go, to stay here in bed with him for the last few hours they had before his flight, but he knew it would not make a difference: Cobb had done this every night they were together, slipped away fully dressed back down to the living room to curl up on the love seat so that he would be in sight when his children woke up in the morning.

Cobb did nothing if he wasn't doing absolutely everything he possibly could to give those children back the father they'd lost in limbo and be something more, a mother, too. He sacrificed everything for them, and Saito didn't like being one of those things, but how could he ask a father to put his children second?

Saito had made no noise that he was awake as he watched Cobb dress and Cobb made no indication that he'd known himself to have an audience, he just started speaking, "It could be easier this way, don't you think?"

He was talking about leaving in five hours, it'd be easier to get up and go back to the other side of the planet if he wasn't pulling out of Saito's arms to do it. It'd be easier for Saito to let go if he wasn't holding onto anything. But he was; in so many more ways than he was prepared to admit, he was holding onto everything.

Saito held onto the hot saltwater leaking from the edges of squeezed-shut blue eyes, the hot breaths with his given name on them(_Kaemon, god, oh, Kaemon, yes, yes, yes, please, oh…_), the playful smiles, the whole-body twitches and snorted laughs when Saito's exploring fingertips found that ticklish spot on the pale inside of his thighs, the secret looks he gave behind the children's backs throughout the day, the smell of his blond mane-like hair, the taste of his sweat-slicked skin, the comforting weight of his hand on the back of Saito's neck, the way nothing changed in the way that Cobb spoke to him (still as the best friend and confidant Saito had been before the sex) only with the minor exception that when they were alone now, and Cobb was on the begging brink, Saito was no longer Saito, or Kaemon, but _baby_.

Saito had never _ever_ thought he'd enjoy anyone calling him that, but, oh, he'd never come harder in his life than he had with that pet name made of hot breath curling up against his throat. Cobb had been with no one in the two years (TWO YEARS) since his beloved wife had died, and yet he'd given himself completely to Saito on his first night in Tokyo and every night since then and that, perhaps, was what Saito held onto more than anything else.

The last five bright days of family laughter and the last five _glorious_ nights of lover's passion had gone by in a blur of pretending: pretending that this could work, that the miles would not break them. But as Cobb dressed to make his way downstairs for sleep on an uncomfortable sofa in order to wake up next to his children instead of staying in a luxurious bed to wake up next to his lover, those impossible miles were unfolding fast and choking fantasies of paper rooms of firelight and promises right out of Saito's heart.

"Nothing can make it easier," Saito answered. It was the truth; he was not going to pretend otherwise. The way Cobb's shoulders sagged, Saito knew the beautiful man would have preferred an enthusiastic agreement to his lie. (Cobb was damn good at lying to himself; that was as much of a curse as it was a blessing.)

"They're home is in LA," he said resolutely to Saito, speaking of his children, repeating something that'd been said this past week enough times over.

"But not _your_ home," Saito said, going to his elbow upon catching the glimpse of an opening, a foothold, a leash to catch and draw Cobb back in with. He could not help a smile, or a reach for Cobb's hand. He was allowed to take the hand and hold it and for a moment, there was only silence in the room. _Your home is with me_. There was no point saying it aloud, they both heard it loudly enough in the touch.

That heavy brow was wrinkled with trouble, disheveled hair flopping over it, blue eyes darkened with guilt-a familiar sight for the business man who was lying in bed looking up at it. When Cobb spoke, his voice was low and full in the way that only sobriety could accomplish, "My home is where ever my children are, Saito."

This was so true it hurt. Saito's hand slipped from Cobb's, and he pretended to be interested in the thread count of the sheets that still had Cobb's body indentation in them. Cobb pushed two hands through his hair, "I can't…." he started and he cleared his throat, arms crossing defiantly at his chest, and he closed his eyes as he shook his head, "I knew this was a bad idea."

Saito sat up, further offended, "You would take it all back?"

Cobb bowed his head, pressing fingers hard into his eyes. "Yes and no. Jesus, _goddammit_."

Seeing how much his best-friend-turned-lover was torn in half, Saito instantly felt guilty pushing his own selfish wants so hard; he'd been certain that if he doted and urged and commanded hard enough, Cobb would never be able to leave him. But it seemed the man would take his children back to the house they had known their mother in even if he had to crawl there on a broken heart.

Saito went to his knees, catching Cobb's wrists in the circles of his fingers and pulling so that Cobb would stop trying to pop his eyeballs. When blue eyes opened, they blinked rapidly before focusing on Saito's brown. "They aren't ready to leave that house for a country that's so different from everything they've ever known, Saito."

Nodding, the still-naked man pushed his fingers through Cobb's and said thickly, "Then I will not ask it of them."

"Kaemon," Cobb breathed.

"Your home is with them," Saito continued in the same thick voice. He looked up, forcing a smile, "and I do not want that to change for anything."

"This isn't fair." Cobb said. He did not specify for whom; it was not fair for anybody. Saito let that truth stand since it spoke so well for what he was feeling twisting in his gut. He attempted to pull his hands out of Cobb's and sink back down into his bed, "Go, get some rest before your flight."

But Cobb tightened his grip and wouldn't let go. When Saito laid back, Cobb went onto his knees on the bed, going with him. Leaning over him, he brought up more words that'd been said too many times throughout the vacation, "Come to LA with us!"

"Dom," Saito said and it was a plea to stop. They'd talked about this. Saito's business was not in the United States and without partners or heirs, he shouldered too much responsibility to do work strictly over blackberries and the like.

He could not take long vacations unless they were part of the deal-making process with prospective clients. His business was _in trouble_ (which was why he'd incepted Fischer in the first place) and it would continue to be until Fischer Morrow was completely gone, but the spoiled heir was taking his time chopping up his inheritance and Saito had already put more strain on his company by taking a whole week off to show the Cobb family around Tokyo.

Saito visiting a family house in northern California to be with his lover and two mischievous children that he'd steal the moon for if asked was achingly out of the question. He could visit for perhaps a week, of course, but no more, and taking that week now was impossible; his company needed him back for more than an hour long call every night before dinner.

"Fuck," Cobb hissed.

"You'll take your family back home," Saito said in his business voice, which did well at making the impossible sound possible, "and I'll stay here and make sure millions of people don't lose their power or their stock, or their jobs." He combed his fingers through Cobb's hair, loving the way it flopped back down across his forehead, "And somehow, we will make this work."

"_Fuck_," Cobb cracked again.

A glance at the clock taunted that they had only five hours. Saito had been astounded by how much he could feel in the space of five days and now he was astounded again by how much he could feel on the promise of five hours. He'd invited his long-trusted friend out to Tokyo with every intention of getting close to him, but he had not intended to get _lost_ in him.

Saito had emerged from limbo a changed man. No longer was he going to settle for sex being little more than a personal business venture, _I'll take that and you have this and we'll call it a fair deal. Thanks_; No. He'd lived that life in limbo by mistake and a mistake it had certainly been. Saito would not soon forget what it was like to sit in a chair all day, too old to do anything but stare at expensive things that did not love him back, remember all the times he'd chosen money over people, and _feel_ so alone…..

Looking for something more substantial than a body to share his bed whenever the mood struck had started the moment he'd landed in LA and it'd taken him two years to realize that he'd do no better than a friend, someone he enjoyed, someone he trusted, specifically Dominic Cobb who called him every day, sometimes twice a day just to say hi to the man who'd given his life back to him, who he'd befriended in limbo, who he insanely trusted more than anyone.

Saito had had no idea Cobb had been living in celibacy since his wife had died, and while he'd intended to start a real relationship, he'd not meant for things to become so serious _so fast_. But there was something between them, they found on that first night and every night since, something burning and rolling and growing so deep that both of them were overwhelmed by it to the point that they had pretended throughout the week that it wasn't there.

This last night, though, pretending was impossible. Cobb had felt this way before, even admitted aloud that he didn't deserve a second chance at what he'd had with Mal, but Saito had never, _ever_ had anything like this. He was loath to let it go half-a-world away.

Suddenly, Cobb was kicking out of the clothes he'd just put on, breaths labored with haste. "Make love to me," he ordered, and blue eyes added, _one last time before I go_. Saito latched onto him hungrily, reverently as his heart melted, chest cavity draining hotly into his stomach, the heat sinking into his groin.

_Making love_: that was what it was, though they'd never said _love_ before (just in Saito's dreams), had never (beyond a few achingly vulnerable moments of half words in the throes of their most tender passion) let what was happening between them appear to be anything more than the steady start of something substantial between adults who were looking for more than hot sex.

He was done pretending, though. If this was going to work, they didn't have time to hide anything. Saito traced Cobb as their tongues slid together. Perhaps (please let it be so) he could memorize the shape and feel of this body before the sun woke, so he would have it in his dreams at least. Cobb seemed to have the same idea. Hands mirroring one another, lips locked in a still, soft caress, shades were imagined down to the tiniest detail but it would still not be enough. Even in his dreams, Saito could not replicate the spark, only remember it.

As Saito's fingers skated over the ticklish spot Cobb squirmed, lips breaking from Saito's in a smile. Long legs wrapped around Saito tightly, hands clasped at the back of his neck, his chest flush against him. Muscles below relaxed around intruding fingers quickly, and powerful arms squeezed Saito pleadingly. Breath warmed his ear and neck, fingers scratched his scalp coaxingly. "Come on, baby."

With a moan, Saito gave in, he pushed wholly into the beautiful heat beneath him, into a fire that raged in their shared heart. Mouths met and breaths swapped until lips broke apart, staved for air. Teeth and tongue traced down pale neck as a steady hand traced hip to knee, tugging a twitch out of the unraveling American.

Saito paused, pulled back, breathless, to revere the sight beneath him. Blue eyes dragged open, breath caught, heavy blonde locks fell. Saito nosed the hair aside and closed his eyes as his favorite pair of hands raced down, cupped his bottom and started the motion for him.

Slow. It had been slow before, on their first night, but that had been more out of patience for a man long out of this particular game. Now it was slow in a different way. Savored; a desperate plea for time to stand still and wait with them. Blue eyes began to spill, as he had seen them do at least once in all their nights together, and the suspended silence was broken by the sporadic throaty affirmatives jumping out of Cobb when Saito pushed or pulled just right.

Saito began to shake first, but he kept the same relishing pace that was surely enough undoing the holds on reality for both of them. Cobb tightened all around him, a whine falling into a moan and further into words, "Keep going,"

"Come for me," Saito rasped. Cobb pressed their foreheads together and held his breath as Saito adopted a brisker pace in his hand, stroking from base to head twice as quickly as he thrust from behind. Cobb's trembles started violently, exploding breaths and bursting tears. The first word cracked like a sob that flattened the rest into a pained, high-pitched sound, "Oh, _Christ, I love you_."

Everything left Saito in a shudder-breath, self, mind, strength—he was everywhere and nowhere. He was in limbo. Or heaven. He whispered with something more potent, perhaps a piece of soul, "I love you, too, Dom. Oh, I love you, too."


End file.
